Boston Day 2 – March 15, 2002
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Some geese along the edge of the Charles River on the Boston side.
My dearest friend,
Well the day started off a little slower today than yesterday. I was supposed to grab lunch with my dad, but he called me about 11:30 or so and had to cancel as things were picking up at his office. Now you have to understand that I really wasn’t disappointed because, in fact, I wasn’t surprised really. Not to sound depressing or anything, but one thing you learn when you’re Kim Jones’ son, is that he likes life in the work-lane and displacement comes often. It’s really not all that bad. I got to stay in bed until just after noon local time.
I chatted with a few friends and gave some thought about what I was going to do that afternoon. I decided to snack on some leftovers from the previous night’s dinner. Did I mention that I cooked? I made this yummy eggplant, sundried tomato, garlic and goat cheese penne with grilled chicken and a salad. It was damn good if I say so myself. Anyway.. I digress. So Justin suggested that I check out a couple of cafes over in Cambridge. So I rolled myself outta bed and after recharging my prepaid cell phone and calling card, I set out on my trek.
I hopped on the T and headed towards Cambrdige. I got off at the Harvard Square stop (pronounced Haaaaavad). The train was full of folk, very diverse and mostly twenty-somethings. Havard Sq. was bustling with activity. There were musicians playing by the entrance to the T and after a short stop to listen, I decided to walk around the area. Now I’ve been trying to avoid taking out my map in public and decided to try and conceal my true purpose (a tourist) by trekking with my backpack in tow. So I accessed my memory and got my berrings straight and decided to strike out towards the Haravard campus, which wasn’t much of a trek, really, since I could have thrown a rock at the edge of campus.
The area is peppered with a lot of small shops and I got the impression it’s a fairly touristy area. Of course there are a lot of students roaming the streets this Friday afternoon and certainly a lot of the shops cater to their needs and interests. I avoided most of the shops except to take note that many seemed proud of their longevity and made sure their patrons knew the year they were established. I’m not sure that it’s important to me that the place selling $2.50 hotdogs was built in 1960, but hey.. apparently someone must care.
So I walked through the center of the Harvard campus and one of the things I noticed was the high density of conservative looking geeks. I stopped to call my friend Ben (who has aspirations of one day studying law at Harvard) when I overheard the conversation of two guys talking about finishing their theses. Now I’ve certainly spent a considerable length of time over the last 4 years at various colleges and universities, but there’s a certain seriousness about the students here that seems quite different from other places I’ve been (especially California.)
I trotted through the campus and came out the south west edge. I pointed east and walked along Mass Ave (that’s local lingo for Massachusets Avenue) and set off to find myself this coffee shop. I was dying for a cup. I cut over to Brattle St and cut west towards a line of shops. As I was cutting over to Brattle, I walked by this really neat looking stationary shop. I took note and would later return. I got to the end of what appeared to be the main concentration of stores and what not and didn’t see Cafe Algiers. I crossed to the south side of the street and headed back east along Brattle to see if it was east of where I started.
One thing that this trip has done for me is given the opportunity for some serious introspection. I have had this burning desire for quite some time to start writing in a journal. I used to write one and started it when I was 13, but I made the mistake of choosing a volatile medium, the computer. And like all things volatile, it got lost when I was about 18 or 19. So unfortunate. I remembered the stationary shop and decided to swing by and pick up a bound journal to share my thoughts and feelings with.
Now choosing a journal is no easy task. I spent about a half hour looking at this one and that. A young woman seemed to be spending a lof of time carefully choosing her own. I commented to her that it was as if you had to wait for the “right” one to find you. Well it finally found me and for $14 bucks plus a couple more for two shiny new black ink pens, I was on my wayis again with journal in hand.
I got to the end of Brattle and still couldn’t find this alleged cafe. I was a little irritated (hey.. I hadn’t had my gosh dang coffee yet and it was rounding 3 o’clock!) and confused that I could have missed it. It was either much farther west or simply hiding from me along the path I walked. I turned the corner to head back towards Haravard sq. and low and behold, but a beacon of light on the corner! (no, you cynical butthole, it wasn’t starbucks).. It was PEETS!
MMmmmm.. Peet’s coffee! Well it was as good as any and better than none, so I crossed the street and walked into a torrent of young folk all trying to get their afternoon fix. So I got my extra large decaff with sugar, cinnamon and whole milk (was craving a little fat) and parked my butt at the counter along with my new friend, my journal.
I spent the next hour and a half or so pouring out my thoughts onto the once blank pages. It was a little strain to write by hand, but the extra time it takes to handwrite a thought makes it that much sweeter. I had a lot to say and the journal had a lot to tell me too. It was a good conversation.
Finally around 4:30 I needed to head back to Boston to meet my dad for dinner. I hopped on the T and did a quick glance at the map to see where I needed to get off to walk to his office. I rode the T to Downtown Crossing station and popped out in front of Macy’s. This was the heart of the financial district and major department stores rose up from every street corner. I got my bearings right quick and turned left. (ok.. it was more of a lucky guess than anything.)
Headed up to his office and got shown around like a prize winning pig (although I think I smell better.) Finally after chatting with the CEO and various other folks about me and some bullshit, we headed to the north end for dinner. We went to this place called The Daily Catch which is well known for its terrific fried calamari. Now this place is probably smaller than my bedroom, but the food was outstanding. Never have I had calamari that tasty or that fresh before. The kitchen is right there and you get to see everything that goes on. Dinner is served in the frying pan and wine is sipped out of plastic cups that even I would pay to upgrade. But the food… ahh.. the food…
We walked along the street to the end and back looking at various restaurants and shops. Some places were empty and a few had a line out the door. Italian is the fair of the North End and the smells and sounds were pleasant. We crossed the street and headed back towards this pastry shop that Kim and Gloria love for their cannolis. The “in” place to be for cannolis and coffee is Mike’s, but this place we went to is less popular, but simply outstanding.
I ordered a double espresso and we split a cannoli. Now I haven’t had a cannoli in years, but from waht I remember, this was probably the best damn cannoli I’ve ever had. The espresso was strong and the conversation turned to my plans for the rest of the evening. Justin and I were planning to meet around 9:30 on Park Street at southeast corner of Boston Common.
Nightlife
———
Justin and his friend Brent and I walked over to this bar just west and a little north of Boston Common. I don’t know what the name is, but it was a pretty large place. The average age was probably in the middle thirties or so with the median age around 32, I’d guess. It’s basically a video bar and there are several rooms in the place. We were there early, but things started to pick up around 10:00. So after three Kamikazee’s (thank you Gabe for introducing me to those… ) oo.. and damn they made the drinks STRONG hehe.. We headed out to a place called “Machine”. (Bostonians have weird names for their bars.. Machine.. Buzz… What’s next? Hacksaw?)
We caught a cab and dropped his friend Brent off at his place and continued on to Machine. This place had a $6 cover (not bad for a major city).
It was two floors. The floor you walk in on had a ramp up to a “leather” area (and they won’t let you into this area unless you take your shirt off or wear leather.. neither of which I would do, thank you. And stairs led town to a split area. On one side there was an enclosed bar with 4 pool tables and the other side had two bars and a really nice sized dance floor.
Drinks were pretty wimpy and the music was like “greatest House mix 2001″ or something off the shelf like that. But at least the DJ knew how to mix in the transitions from one song to the next (something that Sacramento DJ’s seem to suck major horse hooves at). So after slamming back a drink, we put on our disco queen faces and headed out to the dance floor. It was pretty empty even at 12:00am (which it was now) and that was a little disappointing. Apparently Saturday nights are the biggies in Beantown.
So after a couple hours of dancing and drinking, the place started shutting down around 2am and people started filing out around 2:30 or so (they don’t try to scare you by turning on the “truth lights” and shoving you out the door at 1:30am like they do in Sacramento.)
————-The end?
So that was my day 2… It was a long tale and I think my day 3 is going to be a little slower and less exciting, so I won’t have to murder you and your inbox with another novel. At least not tonight… 
I found my heart and it was in Beantown this whole time…
My thoughts are of you and I look forward to seeing you when I return so I can tell you more about my adventures…
